Our Hearts Are Heavy Burdens
by Vamay
Summary: Something had to happen to the world the day that Panem began and the revolting stench of death began to cling to in the air of a once free country. This is how it all ended. This is how it all died. This is how the Hunger Games rose. Open.
1. Our Hearts Are Heavy Burdens

**What really happened to North America? Why did it die so easily and become the world we know as Panem? We all know that District Thirteen was destroyed and the Hunger Games rose to show the world who was in charge. But why? Why did District Thirteen rebel? Who is behind the Hunger Games?**

**This is the first Games uncut, and unscripted. They're scared, unarmed, and completely unprepared for what's about to happen next. No mentors and no idea how to cope with the idea that they're about to commit the highest degree of treason in United State's history.**

**Tribute Form:**

**Name:**

**District/State:**

**Age (I'll only allow two 12 year olds at the most):**

**Appearance (Please expand more than just hair and eye color):**

**Personality:**

**Family (Please, let's not have everyone's parents dead. I'm only allowing one orphan):**

**Friends:**

**History:**

**Romance:**

**Alliances:**

**How do they react to the Reaping?:**

**Opinions of the Games?:**

**Volunteered?**

**If so, why?:**

**Token (What meaning does it have and how did they get it):**

**Likes/interests:**

**Fears:**

**Strengths (Keep in mind that these are the first ever Hunger Games so a normal person wouldn't be a toughed up career. Keep it sane. *only four max*):**

**Weaknesses (*three min*):**

**How do they respond to the Interviews?:**

**Interview Quote:**

**Anything else I should know?**

**Reaping outfit *optional but encouraged*:**

**Arena Ideas? *optional but encouraged*:**

**Sponsoring: **

**Submitting a girl: 8 points**

**Submitting a boy: 10 points**

**Submitting an Escort (form below): 5 points**

**Submitting a Stylist + Team (form below): 5 points**

**Submitting a Blood Bath Character: 10 points**

**Answering a question that will appear at the end of almost every chapter: 3 points**

**_A list of items available will be presented shortly before the Games begin._**

**Escort Form:**

**Name:**

**Age (must be and adult):**

**District they work for:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Why did they decide to take this job?:**

**Family:**

**Do they approve of the Games?:**

**Quote for the media:**

**Stylist Form:**

**Name:**

**Age (must be an adult):**

**District they work for:**

**Do they prefer boys or girls to work with?:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**Do they approve of the games?:**

**Do they have a certain design that they prefer, like a theme?:**

**Quote for the media:**

**Author's Note:**

**Yes, I have another Submit a Tribute story already out there, but I do not plan to neglect it. I plan on taking the time to pick quality tributes to be in the very first Hunger Games. Updates on this story will be slow at first but I hope that they will be full of good story telling fun!**

**I'll be doing all the Reapings, then train rides that will reflect on the Goodbyes, and finally the interviews before the Games begin with a few surprises along the way.**

**Yes, romances will be present in this story. I know that Katniss said that the romance had never been present in the Hunger Games before but she lived 74 years in the future and viewing of the Games was not nearly as mandatory.**

**Blood bath characters. I'm sorry but we need a few of them. (This goes for anyone) After your tribute is dead feel free to continue sponsoring. Blood bath characters will only need this:**

**Blood Bath Form:**

**Name:**

**District/State:**

**Age:**

**Personality:**

**Appearance:**

**Strengths/Weaknesses (Being a blood bath character it would make sense for them to have more weaknesses)**

**If you have any questions feel free to ask in a review and I will get back to you.**

**I hope this will be a Hunger Games we'll all remember! **

**Much Love,**

**Em**


	2. Update 1

**Hello all yee Hunger Games fans! I still need more tributes and such. Especially District One since I'd like to start this story soon. And as for the tributes we do have… I'm not going to tell you who made it in *evil laugh***

**The Reaping is supposed to be a complete shock to everyone, including you! So, you'll just have to wait and see who makes it into the arena of the first ever Hunger Games!**

**The prolog is coming out soon, and I hope you'll all enjoy it!**

**SPONSER POINTS:**

**WhenDayMeetsDark: 8 points**

**Amixdeuxgirl: 8 points**

**Black and Orange: 10 points**

**ForeverYoursEmma: 18 points**

**Rena Pudding: 20 points**

**Tour De Force: 20 points**

**OliviaXD: 20 points?**

**Narcissa-Weasly: 28 points**

**Pattyo123: 30 points**

**"?" means I don't have your tributes yet! I need them soon! And if I have your points wrong, let me know!**

**Stylists/Escorts – Every district needs a one escort, and 2 stylists. They are not required, but this is what I have so far.**

**District One:**

**District Two:**

**District Three:**

**District Four:**

**District Five:**

**District Six: **

**District Seven:**

**District Eight:**

**District Nine: ****Kejarkenojale Fhick (Escort) Li Hay (Stylist #1)**

**District Ten:**

**District Eleven:**

**District Twelve:**

**I hope this will be an amazing year!**

**Much love,**

**Em**


	3. The Beggining To A Diffrent Story

**The Beginning Of a Different Story…**

I slam the door and sink to the carpet. I feel like a ghost waiting to find the light. I shake my head one more time and slam the back of my head on the hard oak. But of course, I don't feel a thing. I replay his words in my head over and over again. But, in truth it was all so simple. _I'm not ready for this. Please understand Amy. It's not you. It's me. _

If it was all him, why do I feel so numb? Why is it that when I look at myself all I think of is his face? Without its usual smile or indents in his cheeks when he laughs. Without the curly cowlick that makes his blonde hair stand up on summer days, when the weather is nice. Why do I see him frown? Why do I see the rain pouring down his hard face as he looks back at me in the mirror?

I slam my fist against the glass. "Stop it!" I scream. I shudder and tuck myself back into a ball. _Safe_, I think and smile just a little. In here, I'm safe from all of the world's hurt and sorrows. But out there, amongst all the violence and harm, there's love. Happiness even. _Why can't I find it?_

I'm asking too many questions. I'm not thinking clearly. I have to come out sometime. I have to my life as Amy. As plane and forgettable as she is, she's me. I can't just abandon her just because I can't be loved by the one person I thought was right. But no matter how much I believed in him, can I really imagine myself back in his arms? Back where I obviously don't belong? No. _Don't come back for me,_ I silently pray.

I open my eyes to the light streaming through the window. The afternoon warmth has finally made its first appearance in a day full of gray. I smile as the light plays off of the dark furniture and textured carpet the surrounds me. I climb over the bed and wrap my arms around a leather bound book and open it. The first page is a sketch. Primroses. The colors that enclosed the light pencil marking made them dance across the aged paper. A picture of a little blonde girl with a toothy smile stood in front of a crumbling building. The picture is rare for her time, and I laugh at her expressions. So innocent, and happy, despite her crumbling world.

The next page crinkles under my grasp. The page is completely blank except for one picture. A teenager coal colored hair and smudges across his cheeks. Despite his olive skin, there's a blush creeping up his face. He obviously has never had his photograph taken before. _Gale _is written in chicken scratch hand writing. My eyes shift to the next page. Another blond girl with a white dress that comes to her knees. A pink bow is laced through her curly hair, but a smirk dances across her lips that makes her look more like a rebel. I shift my glance between the two and smile to myself thinking of the possible adventures the two might have had.

Pages and pages of pictures go by. I stop once and a while, but I've seen all of their faces a million times. The one titled, _Mom and dad _has always been my favorite. A picture of a man and a woman in front of the same house as the little girl. His arms are around her while she hugs a tiny loaf of bread to her chest. They're both smiling broadly. Right next to them is another couple, not quite as happy. A scrawny young man holding the hand of a shorter woman who looked a little annoyed with the camera man. They're in front of a bakery, and he's pointing to a cake in the window, while watching his wife, unsure of what to do next.

Finally, after a couple more pictures I come to the one I'm looking for. The only word on it is _Us_. My grandparents stare back at me through the old picture. They're standing in front of a grand house with primroses neatly surrounding its borders. Grandma smiles at the camera holding Olive's hand, while Grandpa looks off in the distance as my father smiles broadly atop his shoulders. I love these pictures the most. I don't have to guess their story. I know that they have a happy ending.

One has Olive staring at the camera like a deer in the headlights while inside a wash tub. One has dad pretending he's an airplane sprinting through the meadow, the colors of his blond hair and ratty clothes blur across the picture.

I close the book there. There's more, but it's all of me and my brothers and cousins.

I pick up the book and travel silently through the house, dogging Hilda as she vacuums the stairs and place the book back on the library shelf. The library is a circular room with tall windows. It used to be the library of the President of Panem. Sometimes when I'm sitting here on the plush chairs and carpets I wonder what he was like. No one seems to know.

The leather bound book sticks out like a sore thumb. I've asked my father if we could ever get it rebound, but he said that it was meant to stand out amongst the others. It was there to remind us of people that have left us, and the people that we love.

I scan the shelves. I pull out a book that looks more like a story. Dandelions dance on its cover. I smile at the happiness of it all. I'm about to sit down when a something shimmering bounces off the wood paneling that lines the back of the bookcase. A porcelain door knob.

"That's weird," I murmur and reach for it. Something ancient seems to unlock itself under my grasp. A little door opens, exploding with dust and that foul smell that comes with age. Inside is a box. A simple black box that might have held jewelry or knickknacks at one point.

The first thing I see inside is a necklace. A locket. Inside that is a faded picture of a little boy. He stands promptly with his hands by his sides, looking unemotional and posh. There's a scrap of paper, all wrinkled and creased. _I'm Sorry_, it reads in careful handwriting. The "y" twirls off the page. I wonder why this person is sorry. I imagine them crying as they wrote this, being careful about how everything looked.

The second item is a tiny metal with the old seal of Panem, before the new government. It's solid gold, and weighs a ton. It reminds me of the picture of my grandmother after her father died. I drop the metal at the thought. This is a box of memories. Of all the death…

The last item in the box is a book. It has a plain cover, and as thin as an ordinary journal that you could buy in one of the small stores in District 12. Nothing special about it really. I flip it over in my hands, remembering the other cryptic items within the box.

I open it.

_It was never supposed to be this way._

I look up at the door to make sure nobody was watching me. When no one appears in the doorway to ask what the heck I was doing, I go back to scanning the careful handwriting.

_I don't know what I was thinking when I started all of this. No, wait. That's not true. I know exactly what I wanted. I wanted revenge. I wanted all of them to suffer. I worked so hard to be where I am today and this is what I get for it. A rebellion._

My eyes widen. _The first rebellion! I can't believe it! Too cool_, I can't help but thinking.

_I tried, okay? I tried to make all those rats listen to me, but all they wanted was more, more, more! Well, I was angry and fed up and… I started the Games. I had no idea how far it was going to go. I thought it was just going to be a onetime thing… I thought…._

The careful writing ends with that. I turn the page to find the rest printed like a book.

_Dear Reader,_

_These are real accounts of the very first Hunger Games. I am not President Caddy, the woman who wrote the entry before, but I feel that it is important to hear her voice within the story I am about to tell. Every pain and every guilt was felt by everyone around me as I lived and in breathed through the rebellion that lead our country to ruin. _

_-M _

**~Confused? Sorry, I just couldn't think up a creative way to start off this story besides "What a cheerful day in District 1 blah blah blah." So, if you haven' guessed this is Katniss Everdean's grandaughter Amy Mellark. Amy's name means "loved" so I thought it was appropriate. I also made Katniss and Peeta's kids names diffrent. SORRY GUYS, Amy's father's name is not RYE! Ya know, like Rye bread... hahaha. His name is ASTER! :) Ya know? Like the flower! Cuz I mean, why can't the guy be the flower? And then there's Amy's Aunt Olvie (Like the bread *wink wink*) **

**So there's my rant! Hope ya'll liked it!**

**QUESTION: Who is the boy in the picture, and why is the person sorry? What are your thoughts?**

**Much love,**

**Emily :)**


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